


Heat Training

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Underage (16)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkme_merlin prompt: Leon is the Alpha for Arthur. No one knows that Arthur is an Omega until his first heat--and Leon is there to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Training

**Author's Note:**

> Leon is a few years older than Arthur here.
> 
> Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this.

Leon caught the first whiff of the scent as soon as Arthur stepped onto the training field that morning. The scent of sweat and sex and _need_. The scent of an Omega in heat. 

He shook his head, glancing around. But the only ones nearby besides the prince were Bors and Pellinore, both Betas. He sniffed again, unwilling to consider the possibility that Arthur...but there it was again—still faint, but already tinged with a desperate edge. 

No. No, it could not be. The prince was supposed to be an Alpha. He _must_ be an Alpha. Uther was one of the strongest Alphas that Leon had ever encountered, and the thought that his son—the future _king_ —was not an Alpha, nor even a Beta, but an _Omega_ —Leon could scarcely conceive of it. 

Arthur did not look any different. He still sported the awkward, lean limbs of a sixteen-year-old boy not yet grown to manhood. He held his sword lightly, practicing a thrust and parry, frowning in concentration. Clearly he was not yet aware of the turbulent changes his body was beginning to experience. He had no idea that in a scant few minutes he would be feverish with desire, begging to be filled, to have that full, plump mouth of his claimed.

A growl rumbled in Leon’s throat, and he fought down the urge to shove Arthur to the ground right there and then. If the king—

The king.

Leon swallowed, his spiking arousal dying swiftly. If Uther found out that his son was not an Alpha, he would be furious, humiliated. And Arthur—Leon’s heart twisted. His dear prince, who only ever strived to please his father, would be shamed and distraught. He could not let such a thing be.

Thankfully, neither Bors nor Pellinore possessed as keen a nose as Leon. They remained unaware. He must get Arthur inside, quickly, before anyone else could smell him. Then he would fetch Gaius. Surely the physician would have some remedy, some cure that would hold back Arthur’s heat.

Leon steeled himself and strode towards the prince. He could not be gentle in this or Arthur would resist and the others would grow suspicious.

“Do you listen to nothing the sword-master says, sire?” he demanded, and Arthur looked up, startled. Leon grabbed Arthur’s wrist. This close, the scent was stronger, and he fought against his body’s instinctive reactions. “Look at your sword—and your armor!”

Arthur seemed nonplussed to be addressed in such a manner. Bors and Pellinore were trying to hide their grins. Leon resisted the urge to glare at them—yes, Arthur could be spoilt and arrogant at times, but he was their _prince_. 

“What are you talking about Sir Leon?” Arthur demanded, drawing himself up, though he was no match for Leon in height.

“Rust on the blade and on your mail. A dulled edge.” 

“My servant—”

“And you did not check your weapons? Your armor?” Leon shook his head. “Careless. Such inattention could get you killed, your highness.”

Abruptly, Arthur wilted. “I will always check in the future, Sir Leon,” he said, mouth tightening.

And there—moments like this were what made Leon love him. Arthur’s willingness to admit that he was wrong, to learn from the error of his ways. At any other time he would have nodded and let the matter pass, but now—

“And what of the times when you may not have a servant at hand?” Leon frowned. “We shall not practice today, sire. Instead, you shall show me if you can tend to your armor yourself.”

“You mean polishing and—and _cleaning_?” Arthur grimaced. “I am no servant, Sir Leon, and—”

“No, you are the prince,” Leon replied. “What example will you set for your men if you remain ignorant of these tasks? They, too, will neglect their armor if they see their prince doing so.”

Arthur continued to look unhappy, but he followed Leon without question into the castle. Leon led them in the direction of Arthur’s chambers, walking rapidly. He needed to get Arthur settled and find Gaius before—

The bitten-off moan behind him told him that it was too late. He turned to find Arthur swaying on his feet, putting out an unsteady hand to touch the wall. “I—I feel dizzy,” Arthur mumbled. “And hot. Leon—”

“Here, sire.” Leon was at his side in an instant, giving him a supporting arm to lean on. “You need to lie down.” Dear gods but the _scent_ of him. The prince must be growing wet, ready to be mounted—

Leon growled, trying to get a grip on himself, fingers tightening painfully around Arthur’s wrist. Arthur blinked muzzily at him. “W-what’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“You’re ill, your highness.” Leon ushered Arthur into his chambers and shut the door on the thankfully empty corridor. “I will bring Gaius. For now you need to remove your armor and lie down.”

Arthur fumbled at the straps of his gauntlets. He was flushed now and growing sweatier. “I—my fingers won’t—I’m so _hot_.” He stumbled blindly towards the table, reaching for a cup of wine.

“No, sire,” Leon said, drawing him gently back. Wine would only make things worse. He began removing Arthur’s armor himself, resisting the growing urge to press Arthur down under him and rip through his clothes until he found soft, yielding flesh. “Gaius will have herbs—something to make you feel better.”

Arthur’s face scrunched up, and his legs twitched. “I—my—” And then his eyes widened, filling with a panicked, terrified expression.

“It’s—it’s my heat,” he whispered, the words straining. He started shaking.

“We don’t know that,” Leon began, but Arthur thrashed against him, trying to break his hold.

“It _is_! And I—I’m an _Omega_. I can feel—and I can’t be! I can’t be!” Arthur’s voice rose higher and higher.

A sharp growl tore from Leon’s throat, and Arthur went quiet, but he didn’t stop trembling. 

“It will be all right,” Leon told him. 

“No—I’m the _prince_.” Arthur’s voice was small and heavy with despair. 

Leon couldn’t help it; he drew Arthur into his arms. 

The moment Arthur pressed close, Leon knew it had been a mistake. Arthur stiffened, and his trembling turned to a taut eagerness. A low whine hummed in his chest.

“No, Arthur,” Leon began, trying to pry him away, but Arthur clung to him, nosing against his throat.

Leon grabbed Arthur’s wandering hands, which had begun inching their way up his thigh. He could not presume to be the one to ease the prince through his first heat. And yet…Arthur needed _someone_. It would be cruel to make him suffer without release while his heat coursed through him. His body would demand a mating. 

And Leon wanted to be the one to mount the prince—gods, but he could hardly breathe for the desire of it. He wanted to spread Arthur’s legs apart, soothing with tender words and kisses, wanted to gently thrust until his knot swelled, wanted to lick his seed out of Arthur until the prince moaned to be taken once again. 

Arthur was lapping at his neck with an insistent tongue, wriggling in Leon’s hold. His cock bulged against his trewes. 

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, crushing Arthur in a strong grip and trying to ignore his pitiful whines. But it was too much—and Arthur had no one else.

“Come here,” Leon murmured, manhandling Arthur over to the bed. He pushed the prince down, growling sharply when he immediately tried to get up again. Arthur froze, digging his fingers into the blanket, his eyes dilated and fixed on Leon, the underarms of his tunic soaked with sweat. 

“I shall bring you ease in a moment, sire,” Leon gritted, cursing all the armor and fabric that lay between them. He stripped off as quickly as he was able and then tackled Arthur’s hose and tunic. The second he drew close, though, Arthur latched onto him like a limpet, nuzzling against Leon’s shoulder and eagerly humping his prick against Leon’s thigh. A struggle with limbs and cloth ensued, but at last Leon had the prince bared, all his skin flushed with arousal. 

Arthur’s cock brushed frantically against his stomach, trailing a sticky wetness. Leon knew the prince was not completely inexperienced in bed—after all, he himself had selected a pretty whore to pleasure Arthur when they had stopped in a village on their last patrol. He had thought it better to find one with good teeth that didn’t look too poxy rather than let the prince be swept up by the first ample-bosomed woman who approached. But in the swelter of his first heat, Arthur was like an untried boy.

Words eluded the prince’s lust-soaked mind. He panted and whimpered instead, trying to turn onto his stomach, instinct overtaking him. Leon allowed it, tugging at his own burgeoning cock. Arthur scrambled amidst the pillows for a moment and then pushed up his arse, a silent entreaty to be mounted. 

Huffing out a gusty breath, Leon stroked a calming hand down Arthur’s back. When he slipped his fingers into the crevice of Arthur’s arse, he found it soaked, the puckered opening tensing against his light touch. Gathering the wetness onto his hand, he worked a finger inside.

Arthur howled as Leon brushed against the swollen nub that begged for a good prodding from his cock. 

“Quiet!” Leon snarled, losing himself for a moment in the fear that one of the guards should hear. He clapped his free hand on Arthur’s mouth. “Quiet,” he said again, calmer, feeling Arthur’s hot breath puffing against his palm. 

Arthur gnawed on his hand while Leon slid another finger inside him. “Are you ready, sire?” he asked, but Arthur was beyond comprehension, lost in the haze of his heat.

Carefully, Leon withdrew his hand from Arthur’s mouth, waiting to see if he renewed his cries. But the prince only let his mouth hang open, gasping and insensate. Satisfied, Leon spread Arthur’s legs a little wider and took himself in hand, nudging the head of his cock into position. Arthur’s wetness seeped down his cockhead, and Leon shuddered, pushing inside steadily but slowly. 

“Unnnnh,” Arthur moaned, guttural and then growing higher as Leon’s prick filled him. He opened so readily, arse tight but yielding, and Leon had no doubt that Arthur would take his knot, too, when it was time. 

First, though…short little thrusts. Then longer and harder. He listened to the sounds his prince made in response, feeling such a piercing tenderness that his chest ached. 

When he felt his knot swelling, he hunched down, covering Arthur’s body with his own. “Just a little more,” he whispered, kissing Arthur’s sweaty temple. His tongue dared to let some of his feelings escape on the next breath, “My fairest one.”

Some of the tension in Arthur eased at the praise, and Leon slotted inside, groaning. Arthur’s face twisted for a moment as Leon’s knot grew, stretching him painfully, and Leon slipped an arm around Arthur’s chest, holding him close. With his other hand, he reached down and found the slippery, hard length of Arthur’s cock.

He started coming, the knot holding his seed in Arthur’s body. Arthur cried out, and the next Leon knew, his fingers were dripping with come as Arthur peaked. The pressure of Arthur’s contracting muscles surged against where they were tied together, and Leon jolted forward, releasing more seed.

Arthur’s limbs jerked spasmodically in his grasp. The prince kept his eyes closed, and Leon could not help from kissing his face again. Arthur’s mouth remained a sweetness that he could not imagine claiming for himself.

They stayed tied together, and as Leon watched, awareness began to return to Arthur. His relaxed muscles stiffened, and his eyes opened, blinking in confusion and then growing comprehension. Leon’s heart twisted painfully at the expression of shame that filled them. 

Arthur tried to move away and then cried out as Leon’s knot held him fast. 

“Be still, sire,” Leon said, wanting to caress Arthur’s face, to soothe and comfort, but not sure if it would help or make things worse. “I will be able to move away soon.”

“I _know_ that.” Arthur filled his voice with anger to hide his fear. He turned away from Leon as much as he could, hiding his face in one of the pillows. 

“You have no reason to feel ashamed,” Leon whispered. 

Arthur did not reply for a few moments. Then he said, the words wavering as he tried to maintain control, “It isn’t over, is it?”

Leon wished he could give some other reply, but—“No. Your heat will last three days at the least.” His knot was diminishing now, and he pulled back slowly, slipping out of Arthur. He moved away, drawing the blankets up around the prince. 

Arthur huddled in them, and Leon drew his own trewes on again, covering his nakedness. Within the hour the prince would be overcome once more. He must find Gaius; they must figure out a way to keep knowledge of today from the king’s ears. He was about to voice these thoughts to the prince when Arthur spoke. 

“Y—you do not have to perform this duty again, Sir Leon.” Arthur carefully levered himself up on one elbow. He raised his chin, even as his eyes faltered and fell. “Now that I am…” he swallowed and continued, “I know your oaths no longer hold and—”

Appalled that Arthur should think such things, Leon dared to grab his arm. “It was a _privilege_ , sire. Never a duty.” 

Arthur turned disbelieving eyes on him.

“You have always been just as you are,” Leon said gently. “My oaths—I would swear them to _you_ , sire, on this instant.” And he went to his knees, bowing his head.

When he glanced up, some of the despair had fled from Arthur’s eyes. 

*

A few succinct words explained the situation to Gaius. He followed Leon to the prince’s chambers immediately. Arthur was still wrapped in the blankets, but he was looking flushed again, his eyes fever-bright. 

“Can you stop this, Gaius?” Arthur asked, unable to keep his desperate hope from showing.

“I cannot, sire,” Gaius replied somberly, and Arthur sank back, his face closing. 

“Father will—he will disinherit me,” Arthur said tonelessly.

Leon gave Gaius a pleading glance. 

Gaius grimaced but nodded. “The king does not need to be told of this,” he said, and Arthur glanced up, startled. “We shall tell him that you are suffering from a contagious fever and that no one may enter the room. Except Sir Leon, who has already been exposed.” He paused. “If that is acceptable to you, sire.”

Arthur blushed and could not look at them, but he nodded. “I should like Leon to be here.”

Leon had to restrain himself from pinning Arthur to the bed and affirming his loyalty through licks, and nudges, and kisses. He could smell Arthur’s arousal, growing stronger by the minute. They both needed him to be inside again.

“But when I am king,” Arthur continued, brow creasing with worry, “how will—”

“That day is a long way off, sire,” Gaius interrupted, clearly picking up on the same signals as Leon. “We shall deal with it when it comes. For now, I will go tell the king that you are not feeling well.” He turned to Leon and handed him a small jar. “The prince is unused to such…exertions,” he said quietly. “Rub this on any sore places.”

Leon nodded, blushing in his own turn, and then Gaius departed, and he was once again alone with Arthur.

He approached the bed slowly, not wanting to startle the prince, despite the instinct snarling at him to mount and take what needed taking. But Arthur made a low noise in his throat and reached out a seeking hand.

They tied again, and afterwards Leon took the prince into his mouth, leaving Arthur dazed and befuddled with pleasure. He wanted to be held then, and Leon was glad to oblige, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. 

“Will the others know?” Arthur asked quietly, and Leon knew he referred to the other knights.

“No. And next time, you’ll know the signs. We can address it before it becomes too noticeable.” Leon faltered. “That is, if you desire my presence, sire. I am sure someone else—”

“I want _you_ ,” Arthur said firmly. 

Leon petted his soft hair. “But the others would not mind it, if they did know,” he added after a moment. “We are all proud to follow you, sire.”

Arthur hunched a little, curling into Leon’s chest. “Don’t tell them. Please.”

“As you wish, sire.” 

They lay silently for a while, and then Arthur stirred. “I can feel it _building_ again,” he said, low, distressed. “Take my mind off it. Keep me from giving in—just for a little.”

So Leon told him a tale about a great battle that his father had participated in when he was young—he knew the story well enough, for his father had never missed a chance to regale the company with it. And when at last Arthur could no longer bear it, he took him gently, pressing worshipful kisses along the curve of Arthur’s neck.

The prince fell asleep with Leon still buried inside him, too worn out to stay awake any longer. When he softened enough to slip free, Leon cleaned Arthur and treated him with the salve Gaius had left before climbing into the bed next to him again. Arthur mumbled sleepily but did not rouse. 

An Omega. One who surrendered. One who submitted. 

And yet, Leon thought, was that not what kings—what the noblest and wisest kings—did? They surrendered their lives for the good of their kingdom. They submitted their will and their pride to a higher purpose—the protection of their people. 

Fitting then, that his prince should be so. For Leon knew that within the body that he cradled against him beat the heart of a true king. Neither life nor soul would he begrudge in answering the charge that lay before him—to protect and nurture his prince and the vision of a bright future that Arthur embodied, twined within the fair and gentle fibers of his being.


End file.
